Attention From a Grown-Up
by Anna Lane
Summary: Betty is tired of waiting for Archie. And Fred is tired of watching her. Betty/Fred


A/N: This story has been in my head since season 1 and it really took a different direction than I had intended, but I hope there's some enjoyment in it for you! (P.S. I have been in love with Luke Perry since I saw him in the Buffy movie! So happy he's on Riverdale now). Also, this is an AU in which Betty is 18 - I just wanted to state that here to avoid possible confusion.

* * *

Fred grabbed himself a beer from the fridge when he heard a woman crying. It sounded nearby. He looked out on his porch and found a sad little blonde. "Betty, what are you doing here?"

She looked up, all pink face and watery eyes. And his heart melted. She offered him something he vaguely recognized as Archie's jacket.

"Did something happen?" Fred asked. He'd been waiting for his son's balls to drop – which would presumably be the day Archie finally asked Betty Cooper on a date. But the look on her face was _not_ one of elation – she'd been waiting for that moment longer than he had. It looked like his son was in denial. About football, about his music career, about the beautiful girl next door.

"I just…wanted to give this back to Archie. But he's not home. I saw him leave with…" Her tears were still streaming down her face, even though she'd stopped the sobbing.

Fred sank to the steps beside her, understanding right away. It was the brunette, Veronica Lodge. Archie was making his father's mistakes. "Archie is…an idiot," Fred started. "I mean, he's my son. And there's no one else I'd rather have run my business. But, he's an idiot."

Betty tried to smile, but her face didn't seem to work.

Fred was awkward. He didn't know how to comfort a girl who needed comforting. He'd hardly ever been the boy girls flocked to for sensitivity when he was young…and it was worse now. Far worse. What did someone so young and innocent and hurt need to hear?

He patted her back and gave her his unopened beer. He regretted it immediately. What was wrong with him? Why would he give her a beer? Just because it would have worked for him doesn't mean he should be encouraging it in her. Plus, there was the pesky fact that she'd only just turned 18, not 21.

She wiped her eyes and tried to open it, but couldn't get the sharp top off. He took it back and flicked the cap off easily before handing it back to her. Fuck! Why had he given it to her again?

She took a strong swig, but made a face and offered it back to him.

"Yeah," Fred said, chugging down half of it, "it doesn't taste that good, does it?" He winced. He really, really sucked at this. At least he didn't have to worry about contributing to her corruption. He sighed a little in relief, thinking about the fliers from Archie's school – about the parents who host and lose the most.

Betty drew him out of his thoughts. "I just don't know what's wrong with me."

Fred looked from the beer to the girl, barely following her train of thought. "No, nothing's wrong with you, Betty. You're beautiful and sweet. Archie doesn't know how lucky he is to have a friend like you."

He noticed her nails digging into the palm of her hands and grabbed her wrist. "Don't do that," he commanded. He'd heard stories from Hal when he was drunk, but Fred wouldn't let that happen on his time. He held one of her hands between both of his until he felt the stiff muscles of her fingers relax. He meant to let go, but somehow that didn't happen. "This isn't because of any fault you have –"

Betty opened her mouth to argue that she wasn't perfect, but Fred cut her off, seeming to know what she would say "–of which you have many, I'm sure. But this is because the universe, in its infinite wisdom, saw fit to put you and Archie on different pages."

Betty squeezed his hand. "All I've ever wanted was for us to be on the same page."

Fred gaze a small smile. "Why do you even like Archie, if you don't mind my asking? Again, he's my son; I love him. But why do you?"

"I'm that obvious?"

Fred grinned. "No, _I'm_ that good, Betty Cooper. You are an open book to me."

"An open book on the wrong page, apparently."

"Betty, c'mon. Don't put yourself down because of some boy."

"You want to know why I like him?" She smiled, even though he could tell she was still sad. "The way you grabbed my hand? That's something Archie would do. And the way he smiles – I'd do anything to make him smile." She gave a strange whimpering laugh as another tear fell. "And he's got this look on his face, like his intentions are always pure."

"I don't know that a teenage boy's intentions can ever really be 'pure,' Betty…"

Betty looked down at their hands. "Right. Boys will be boys," she said sarcastically.

Fred withdrew one of his hands to comb his hair in frustration. He didn't want her thinking all men would or should treat her this way. He was happy to notice that despite no longer being trapped, her hand stayed atop his. "That's not what I –" he sighed. "It's us. The Andrews men. We find a way to wreck even the simplest and best of things. Sometimes I think we weren't made to love."

"That's not true," Betty turned her wide eyes toward him. Her other hand moved to clasp his, mirroring what he had done to her before. "What about you and Veronica's mom?"

He shifted. "Hermione and I…well, I guess business got in the way of what you might call blossoming love." He struggled to find a neutral answer.

She wrapped her free arm around his shoulders quickly. The hug was over quickly, but Fred was left with a mental impression of her body against his that wouldn't fade.

Shoulder to shoulder, they sat on his front steps. She told him about college and how she was going to become a reporter, like her mom. "But not here, not in this town."

"I don't blame you, Betty. Sometimes I still think I need to get out."

She looked at him with shrewd blue eyes. "Then you should. The people here…it's like they're all caricatures of themselves. Like they aren't real."

"Thanks." Fred took another swig.

She gave him a rueful grin and he couldn't help but smile. "You know I didn't mean you."

"No, I am, too. A real 'salt of the Earth' person. Always trying to do the right thing. Always coming in last. That's what Archie's mother always seemed to think, anyway."

"Don't you ever do the wrong thing?" Betty asked, almost as if she were disappointed.

He looked a little too long into her face. "I think about it all the time."

Her throat caught. He was like her. The rest of the world didn't know how wrong they were when they tried to label them 'perfect' or 'moral.' She had to act that way or else her dark thoughts would completely overwhelm her. She could see now that Fred was the same.

She looked away and put her head on his shoulder as the night grew darker and darker. Her eyes drifted close. It was hard to feel safe, alone in her room. Sometimes she fell asleep at her window, hoping to see a glimpse of Archie. Most of the time she stayed in her bed, restless and exhausted. Tonight, she fell asleep against a man who made her feel safe. She didn't know how long it had been since she'd gotten a night of such peace.

"Betty," he shook her awake.

She opened her eyes sleepily.

"You should probably get home. It's getting late."

She looked around, noting that somehow, she had slept against him for some time. She felt a wrinkle in her cheek from his jacket. "Did Archie…?"

Fred shook his head sadly. It was late enough that Archie was probably somewhere else for the night, most likely with Veronica. He didn't want to be the one to break the news, but he couldn't lie.

She looked down, embarrassed. "I'll leave the jacket with you. Archie will need it for tomorrow." Fred had draped it across her body while she slept.

"Take mine," he insisted.

"Mr. Andrews, I'm right across–"

"Take it." He gave her a look that said there would be no argument. As if she really wanted to argue anyway. She slipped his on. It was warm from her body, a little too thin for the winter. It smelled like him. She zipped it up even though she knew it would be a short walk. "Thanks, Mr. Andrews."

"Any time, Betty." He paused uneasily. "I know I'm not Hal–" _thank God he wasn't Hal._ "but I'm here if you need me."

"Thank you." Betty said quietly. She turned to go, but turned back quickly to give him another hug. Their timing was a little off and their bodies hit together a little too hard, but Fred wrapped his arm around her, anyway. They pulled apart and he thought she would go. But, like the most natural thing in the world, her lips met his. And he kissed her back.

Her mouth tasted like bubble gum and beer. Her lips were cold from being outside, but her tongue was hot.

Betty felt his big hand wrap into her hair as lips parted hers. He angled her just how he wanted her and she clung to him. Why had they kissed? She was tired and it felt right, but now she was awake and she felt wild. She sucked his lower lip and bit it just a little.

"Betty," he groaned.

He tried to pull away, but she pressed the full length of her body into his. He leaned into her and backed her into the porch railing. God, his whole body felt amazing against hers. Had it ever felt like this before?

The sound of an engine failing to turn over down the street made them jump again. Whoever it was tried again and their car started. "I've got to go," Betty said quickly. And then she took off towards her house. Fred hung his head. What the _fuck_ did he just do?

Betty closed the door to her bedroom, completely breathless. She'd just kissed –? And it was the best kiss –? She fled to bed and went under the covers, keeping the jacket on. She replayed the moment over and over in her head. It felt so good, no matter how embarrassed she felt. She never slept that well at home, but that night she did. She didn't remember the dreams she had that night, but she remembered that they were good.

* * *

If it was possible, Betty came around even more often after that. However, they were strange visits, like she didn't care if Archie was home or not. Sometimes she would just sit and talk to him, under the pretext of waiting for his son. Sometimes she would even leave before the boy got home.

Fred knew something was off about her behavior. About his, too, for letting it happen. But he just couldn't turn her away. He didn't want to do that to her after Archie, didn't want to be the second Andrews man to hurt her. Besides, he liked her company. He'd gone from a single father whose boy looked up to him like a hero to the father of a young man who never seemed to have time for him.

And it wasn't like anything that inappropriate ever happened, he told himself. It was a friendly relationship – not quite parental, true, but nothing wrong. Kissing, necking, nothing else.

His weak line of reasoning was tested one summer night.

It got too cold to sit on the porch. Especially when she usually ended up asleep. He should have been insulted that his presence put her to sleep, but he wasn't. It felt like an honor. She trusted him and liked him enough to be vulnerable around him. When he asked her why she didn't sleep well at home, she muttered something quietly about her family and he decided not to ask again.

She was on the couch with him in the living room. She flicked around the channels a lot before she settled on a quiet sitcom. She turned to kiss him, like any night. Only kissing. He couldn't say what she'd put on. Something with a laugh track, he noted. Even as he immersed himself into her presence, he couldn't help but feel they were laughing at him. What was he doing, a forty-something year-old kissing his son's best friend?

They kissed until their lips were dry and tired. She fell asleep nearly on top of him on the couch. The television would flash and illuminate her face as she took soft breaths. He kinda wanted to stay like that forever. But what would he say if Archie came home?

He picked up the young woman and carried her to his bed. He pulled a cover over her and closed his door. He could sleep on the couch for the night.

* * *

It became a routine. Of the best kind. His day revolved around the possibility of seeing her, just to hold her, just to kiss her. Just to talk to her, too, if he was honest. He didn't actually get out to socialize much.

One night, he came home late. He wasn't surprised his son wasn't there, but he couldn't help but feel the smallest bit disappointed that Betty hadn't been there waiting for him. He drearily ate a sandwich and got ready for bed. After his shower, he opened the door to his room and his stomach dropped. There she was, in his bed. Fast asleep.

Fred was tired, too. He'd had to work late in order to finish up a contract on time. He threw on a shirt and went to his bed, next to her. She had drifted into the middle somewhat, but there was just enough space for him on either side of her.. Fred reclined, made a decision, and closed his eyes. He didn't go under the covers, lest he go somewhere she wasn't ready for him to go. He would have thought he'd never get a moment's rest with her so temptingly close, but his long day and the peaceful breathing at his side got to him and in no time at all he was as sound asleep as Betty.

* * *

Even though he'd boasted about reading her like an open book before, he was at a loss. The book was in Latin or some other equally dead, indecipherable language they didn't teach in a small place like Riverdale. What was he supposed to do when the fragile girl was kissing him for all the world like they'd be invincible together? The last thing he wanted her to think was that he didn't want her, either. For her sake, but also because it wasn't true.

He was home finishing up cleaning after the dinner he made for the son who didn't come home when he heard the door slam closed. "In the kitchen," he called out.

Someone wrapped their arms around him from behind and he couldn't help the smile. He should tell her to go. He turned around and leaned in to kiss her. She arms went around him as she all but assaulted him in his kitchen. Today felt different. He pulled away. "We shouldn't–" he said.

They never talked about it. Just kissed. Only ever kissed. Like kissing was just talking and their bodies always felt good but aching after. And it was perfect for Betty. She froze now. What would he say? Would he turn her away?

"Don't look at me like that." He begged.

"Mr. Andrews–" she started.

He closed the inches between them and buried his face against her neck, moving only to brush his lips against her shoulders. "God, Fred. Please, just call me Fred."

"Fred," the short simple name made her stomach drop. It had never been a name she'd found sexy before, but now…she moaned when he moved up to her earlobe. His hands restlessly smoothed over her waist and back. It was all she could do to cling to his shoulders.

He moved her body to the clean kitchen counter and rocked against her open legs. He felt her surprised gasp and he did it again. He loved that it felt as good to her as it did to him. He did it again, and again. Her mouth found his and urged him to continue at an even faster pace. They did that for what had to have been minutes, just rubbing against each other and panting their silent encouragements. He made no move to grope or undress her. The most she did was tug at his shirt or hair. He could almost kid himself that it was nothing.

That was, until she stilled and cried out. Her legs tightened around his waist. Her whole body was shivering.

"Betty," he said, concern in his voice until he looked at her face. At the most beautiful expression he'd ever seen on it. She kept her hard grip on his clothes and held him in place with her legs. "Betty," he said again, so turned on it hurt.

Her eyes met his and she reddened. She looked away before pushing him off and unsteadily getting to her feet. He almost had to catch her because her knees were weak. "I – I'm sorry." She couldn't meet his eyes and she fled from his kitchen.

* * *

The next time she saw him was at the fall Riverdale carnival. She'd gone with Archie, Veronica, and Jughead, but it hadn't taken long for Jughead to seek out the fair food and for Archie and Veronica to seek out somewhere private.

Fred was dismayed to see that she looked exhausted. Her eyes were purple. She hadn't been by in weeks. And it must be true what she said – she didn't sleep well at home.

He grabbed her arm and steered her off towards a patch of trees away from the carnival goers. "Betty, did I do something wrong?"  
"No," she said emphatically.

"I won't – I mean, if you're uncomfortable, I'll never do anything again –"

"No, it's not…it's me! I –" She didn't finish and couldn't quite look at his face.

"Was that your first time having a – an orgasm?"

She groaned.

"You don't have to be embarrassed, Betty. I was flattered"

She turned pink all over again and tried to look small. "Betty, look at me." He made his voice hard. She slowly looked at him. He stood so close he loomed over her. "I am going to make you cum, over and over. Until you start begging me to do it again and stop running away."

She opened her mouth, but couldn't say anything. God, she wanted that. But it was so _mortifying_ to come apart like that. How could she let herself do that again? What was wrong with her? She wasn't sure the kind of person it would make her if she continued to sneak around with Fred.

He leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips. She let him. "I don't know if I can do that again," she whispered.

"Did it hurt?"

"No, it was amazing, but–"

His soulful eyes locked onto hers. "Then let me do this for you, Betty." He went down onto his knees and Betty thought she'd jump out of her skin right then and there. His hands went to her knees. He'd never touched her knees before. She thought she might collapse. They went higher. It was a cold fall day and even though she had thin stockings on under her skirt, his warm hands felt good on her legs. His hands inched up past her skirt. "Is this okay?"

"Yes," she whispered.

They went higher and higher until he was tugging her soft grey leggings down. She wanted to stop him. She wanted to rip off all her clothes because he was taking too long. She wanted to melt. Her nails sank into bark.

He finally bared her legs completely and before she was really ready, Fred's head was under her skirt and he had moved her panties to the side. He licked her and she felt suddenly weak. "Oh, god," she said hopelessly. She was going to get addicted to this, she could already tell.

He moved apart her folds and flicked his tongue against her clit. He stopped only to lap at her center, where her arousal was pooling uncontrollably. When he slipped his tongue inside, his hands and the tree became the only things that were supporting her.

He hoisted one leg over his shoulder as he knelt beneath her and he. Would. Not. Stop. She moved one hand to his hair and began to rock into him. The best ride at the fair. She laughed weakly with joy. "Yes," she panted. He must have been there for at least ten minutes while they both figured out what she liked and what drove her crazy. Finally, she was spinning apart so hard it almost hurt.

He moved up her body and claimed her mouth. She could taste herself on his tongue and around his lips and she flushed. What did he think of the way she tasted?

Without warning, he turned her around and pushed her against the tree. He rubbed his hips into her ass while she clung to its trunk. It should have been degrading, but instead it was invigorating. With each of his needy thrusts, she became less conscious about her own body's responses. She heard a zipper and finally the sound of his hand on his flesh, but she didn't turn around. Without warning, she felt something hit her skirt. Fred groaned and held her in place with one hand while the other made quick, jerking motions.

He dropped his head to the back of her ponytail and sighed. "Betty, you drive me crazy."

"You drive me crazy, too." She turned around and caught a quick glimpse of him before he tucked himself away. Of course, that made her blush, too. She'd wanted to touch him, but she didn't want to ask.

He gave her a rueful grin. "I don't think you can wear that skirt the way it is."

Betty turned and tried to look at her skirt. "You, um –?"

"This wasn't the first time I jerked off to the thought of you, you know."

She smiled a little. "It isn't?"

One hand grabbed the back of her head and the other went to her waist. He pulled her in for a passionate kiss. "I love you."

Betty was lost for words.

"It's okay, you don't have to say it back. And the second you're done with me, I'll understand."

She gripped his shoulders and kissed him instead.

He took off the plaid shirt he was wearing under his jacket. "Why don't you tie this around your waist?"

She did so to hide the stain. When she met up with her friends later during the carnival, they didn't even notice the outfit alteration. She played with the dangling sleeves while her friends joked and played carnival games. She couldn't wait to get Fred Andrews alone again.

* * *

That summer, Fred was growing desperate. He wanted to take Betty, take her more than anything he'd ever wanted before. To make matters worse, as the summer went on, she wore less and less.

The temptress was in his kitchen on a summer night in nothing but a black crop top and short shorts. He had made them spaghetti. The kitchen had been hot when they ate, but his room had a small air conditioning unit. He led her there nervously.

"Fred!" She exclaimed when she entered. He'd scattered rose petals all over the bedspread, and the room was freshly cleaned.

"You are leaving in a couple months for school. I don't want to waste the time we have. Is this okay?"

She turned to him and her eyes were bright. "This is better than okay." She went on her tiptoes and kissed him.

He pulled away and his lower lip was trapped by hers for just a moment, like she was reluctant to let him go. He tried to ignore the jump of his cock when he slipped from between her soft lips.

He led her to the bed and gently kissed her lips, her neck, her stomach. His face went to her legs and she realized he hadn't planned on sex – just a special night of what he normally did, which was him teasing and tasting her until she came and cried out his name.

She didn't know how much longer she could take this. She wondered what he must feel like all the time. The empty space between her legs was driving her nuts.

She pulled him up her body. "I want you up here," she whispered.

"Are you sure, Betty?"

Betty laughed nervously. "I always used to have a crush on you, Mr. Andrews."

He shifted uncomfortably. She called him Fred now, but every once and a while she would slip up. It used to make him flinch, but now he hardened. There was a new twist to her lips when she said it, a new glint in her eyes.

"I've got to say, my intentions are not feeling so pure at this moment, Betty."  
"Neither are mine," she whispered.

"You wasted your childhood waiting for Archie. I just don't want to see you waste your adulthood, too. With an old man–"

"You mean with someone I love? Who respects me and wants what's best for me? Trust me, I want this."

"You love me?" he asked, his voice choked.

"Yes." She promised.

He kissed her slowly. He wanted to show her his joy, his commitment. He wanted to hold her forever.

Her first time wasn't like a fairytale. But he felt good inside her and she came around him while she called his name and told him she loved him. And they fell asleep wrapped together. Just as it should be.

* * *

She went to college two hours away and he visited her every chance he got. In a different city, he could take her out. He could hold her hand. He could love her without worrying about a bunch of small-minded hypocrites. He was close to giving her a ring, but he wasn't willing to tie her down like that, not when she had her whole life ahead of her and he was so tied to Riverdale.

He was spending the night with her in her little college apartment when she told him she was pregnant. He should have felt guilty. Should have been panicked. But he grinned and held her fast. "I'm going to be a dad again?"

Her grin matched his. She didn't know how it would work, but she knew there was no one else she'd rather have raising her children. Their life at the little apartment was perfect when he could sneak away. They were already a family, even if the baby was only just showing.

* * *

Then one night she got the call. She burst into tears. A man in a black hood had shot and murdered Fred Andrews. Her perfect, secret world fell apart and her stomach dropped to the floor like her baby was crying, too. She couldn't stop sobbing as Archie told her. He cried with her.

She went to the funeral and everyone stared. Her condition was obvious. Everyone whispered and watched her out of the corner of her eye. Archie asked, but she refused to tell anyone. They all figured it was a boy at school. That she'd just been another Polly and fallen for the wrong guy. Inside, she was dying. How could Fred be gone? He hadn't even gotten to see the child he'd been so excited to meet.

* * *

 **4 Years Later**

After her first year, she transferred to a college on the East Coast. She graduated and became a freelance reporter. She was working on a piece about gun statistics in the city when she saw the link. Another shooting in Riverdale. Another murder. The Black Hood was active again. His first sighting since Fred. She packed that night.

She drove to her parents' house out of habit, but it wasn't their door she found herself knocking on. "Archie." She was surprised to see him again after all these years.

"You're back?" He smiled and she was sixteen again, falling for that smile and those kind eyes. His were so much like Fred's it was almost like losing him again.

"Is Veronica –?" She wanted to see all her friends.

"Haven't seen her in years," he said sadly.

"I'm sorry." There was enough emotion in her voice to be an apology for everything. For what he did know and what he didn't, for leaving.

He noticed the little girl holding her hand and hiding behind her back. "Is this your daughter? Hi!" He spoke kindly, but the little girl only peeked at him shyly.

"Archie, I have to tell you something." She paused to close her dry mouth.

He looked interested.

"The reason I didn't say who the father was..." Betty looked at the face of her first friend and knew there was no easy way to say it. "She isn't just my daughter. She's your sister."

His face fell. "You can't mean that! You…and my dad? Betty." He shook his head and he looked disgusted. "You can't just spring this on me!" He looked at the little girl again and his face looked like he'd been punched in the gut. She had Fred's hair and eyes.

Betty could read his conflicted emotions. Archie looked at the little girl like she was the sickness and the cure. Betty felt the same way as she raised the little girl alone after Fred's death.

Betty didn't know if she'd be able to ask the next favor, but seeing him again encouraged her to forge on. "Archie, I need your help. The Black Hood is active again."

He looked up and the disgust was replaced with fire. "I know." His fists clenched.

She steeled herself. "I need you to help me find the man who murdered the father of my child."

He gave her a long look, like he didn't trust her and didn't think he'd ever trust her again. He finally turned away and went to the kitchen. He returned with a box. "What do you think I've been doing the past four years?" Inside, Archie had copies of records, reports, newspaper articles, and pictures of crime scenes. They might actually be able to do this.

She slowly smiled. "You Andrews men always surprise me."


End file.
